


In Your Arms I'll Fall (All The Way To Hell)

by redqueentheory, Wildgoosery, Woven_Gulch



Series: I'm With the Band [9]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bath Sex, Biting, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Collars, Fingers in Mouth, Frottage, Hair Pulling, Hand Jobs, Healing, Humiliation, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Obedience, Orders, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original Character(s), Painplay, Pet Names, Punishment, Rewards, Rimming, Scratching, injuries, thigh highs, waking up to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-27 04:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13240599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redqueentheory/pseuds/redqueentheory, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildgoosery/pseuds/Wildgoosery, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woven_Gulch/pseuds/Woven_Gulch
Summary: Taako's been exceedingly well behaved, so Brad gets him a present. Taako's not sure how he feels about it.





	1. Chapter 1

“What do you mean he isn’t _here?”_ Taako demands, loudly. Not caring that, for once, there are other people in the HR department, muddling around. A rush of people behind him, going in and out of offices that he’d never stepped foot in. Offices belonging to Brad’s subordinates. 

He frowns hard at Charity as she continues her call on the Stone of Nearspeech, pointedly ignoring him. 

He’s already _late,_ is the thing. The _concern._ And not even because he wanted to be-- an elevator stopped on his way over, dropped a floor and trapped him and Carey Fangbattle in it for a solid twenty minutes. The gap had been too small for either of them to slip through (though gods help her, Carey sure did try), and he’d been out of spell slots since that morning’s practice. 

He's _late,_ and holding a handwritten note from the elevator maintenance staff that eventually came to his rescue. Not that he thought it would soften the blow, really. 

But he had to try. 

He was… on a _good_ streak, despite himself. He hadn’t even noticed the pattern of behavior forming, the quiet obedient nods, the arbitrary rules he hadn’t scoffed at. Before he knew it, Brad was telling him how _good_ he was, how _good_ he’d been, how _good boys_ got _rewards,_ and. Well. 

As if he was going to lose whatever reward he’d earned over a faulty elevator. 

Charity hung up the Stone, fixing him with a sour glare, a firm departure from her usual chipper Too Much Coffee grin. “Mr. Tayko--” 

“You! Know! It’s! Taako!” he seethes, interrupting her, miming strangling her. “It has been _months,_ you--” 

She sneers through the smile. “Ah ah ah, what did Mr. Bradson say about sassing his employees? Not very _good_ behavior, is it?” 

Taako knows Brad doesn’t divulge what they do together to her, but gods below she’s a hell of a guesser. He flushes and shuts his mouth, bites his tongue. “What do you _mean_ he’s not _here_ ? _”_

“He took a half day,” she explains, opening a drawer with her tail, flicking through the folders without looking before pulling out an envelope with the prehensile end of it. 

She holds it out to Taako, cocks a perfect white eyebrow. “He left you this.” 

Taako snatches it and turns away from her, before using his nail to tear it open. He’s not sure what he expects, really. An apology, maybe, for ghosting on him. 

All he gets, however, are instructions: _My apartment, at six. Bring a change of clothes. Skip dinner._

Taako frowns at it, turns it over to find the other side of the comically large memo blank. “That it?” 

“That’s it. At least he won’t know you were late, Mr. Tayko. Count your blessings.” 

“Taako,” he corrects, distracted. 

Charity snickers, tail wagging in long, slow arcs behind her. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?” 

Taako folds the note up and shoves it into his back pocket before eyeing the clock. “He didn’t happen to mention where he was off to?” 

Charity shrugs. “Just that he had to go planetside for the afternoon.”. 

“Planetside,” he repeats, huffing out his nose. “Whatever. I’m outtie. It’s just hilarious seeing you guys work double time when he ain’t here. I didn’t realize any of these other offices even had people in them.” 

“Mr. Bradson’s quite good at his job,” she agrees, getting to her feet, taking her coffee cup with her. She flicks her tail under Taako’s chin as she passes. “He does the work of ten people. Despite _distractions._ ” 

Taako snorts and stomps off in the other direction, rubbing his chin and trying to will away the growing blush in his cheeks. 

\--- 

He does as he was told, too curious to grumble much about it. Tells Magnus and Merle on his way out the door with a tote bag slung over his shoulder that he’s probably not going to be back until morning and that they’re on their own for breakfast, before darting off so he can avoid their whines about it. 

It’s not like Brad is never… _mysterious,_ on occasion. He likes the element of surprise, and Taako can’t pretend he doesn’t enjoy it, too. 

So instead of nervous, anxious, he’s wound up. It’s easy to tamp down his expectations, knowing it’s unlikely that Brad is going to pull his usual tricks with the invitation ( _order_ ) to stay over on the docket. 

He shifts the tote bag high up on his shoulder and knocks, musical. Perhaps pushing it with the familiarity, but he’s on time and, well. 

He spent the first half of the day expecting to get fucked royally around noon. He’s maybe just the smallest bit eager. 

Taako hears his watch hit six just as Brad opens the door, shoots him his best smirk. “Hey there.” 

“You’re prompt for once,” Brad muses, standing aside as Taako strides in. Eyes the bag before closing the door behind him. “So you agree to stay.” 

Taako wants to bite back with a _maybe_ , or some snide comment about _expectations management,_ but shakes it off. “Yes,” is what he says instead, hooking the tote around the bedpost. He turns around on his heel and clasps his hands behind his back, going for coquettish. “So what’s with the disappearing act this afternoon?” 

“Impatient,” Brad chides, smirking. Taako leans into his hand when he brings it to his chin. “On the bed.” He shakes his head when Taako reaches for his blouse buttons. “Not yet.” 

Taako frowns, but reaches back to pull his skirt aside before he sits down. Watches as Brad rounds the bed and reaches into the closet for a shopping bag on the floor. No brand Taako recognizes-- no brand at all, honestly. But pale pink, and something maroon inside. Something box shaped. 

He can’t bring his ears down, stuck in perked up curiosity. Opens his mouth, then closes it. Not sure if being too presumptuous would set Brad off. So as much as he wants to ask what it’s in the bag, and if it’s for him, he bites it back, swallows it down. 

Brad places a hand on his head, brushes his hair back. “You’ve been so good.” 

Taako feels a heat in his face and neck, looking up at him. Brad impossibly, stupidly tall as he stands in front of the bed. 

Brad’s hand trails down his cheek and up again, and Taako leans into it, eyes closing, purr starting up somewhere in the back of his throat. 

“Pet,” Brad murmurs, pressing one knee onto the bed, bringing his other hand to Taako’s face. “Keep your eyes closed.” 

Taako bites back a squeak, ear closest to the bag lifting as Brad reaches into it. Hears the silk string come undone, a slow pull, teasing him. 

Brad brings his hands to Taako’s neck, trails warm fingers there before unbuttoning the top few buttons of his blouse. Smoothes the fabric apart before reaching over and into the opened box. Taako tries to listen, sure his curiosity is written all over his face despite his closed eyes. 

Brad chuckles. “So eager,” he purrs, leaning in to whisper into Taako’s ear. “You darling little thing. I do hope you like it. I had it made _just_ for you.” 

There is the sound of-- metal, clinking. Heavy, chunky. Not a delicate twinkle of gold or jewels on the end of a chain, but something… sturdier. 

Taako wrinkles his nose and his ears quirk up out of sync at the decidedly Not Necklace weight curling around his throat. The metal sound didn’t prepare him for-- a sniff, and a frown-- leather? Sheep’s leather, he’s sure. 

Brad fusses with it, and Taako knows to keep his eyes closed even as Brad gets off the bed, takes Taako’s hands into his and leads him across the room. Taako is familiar enough with the layout that he knows they’re in front of the mirror before Brad even says it. 

“Go ahead,” Brad murmurs, one hand placed on Taako’s shoulder, the other running along his cheek and neck, grazing over-- 

The collar. 

Taako stares. Can’t bring himself to focus on it yet, settles for keeping eye contact with his reflection. Eyes wide, elven pupils blown from the slits they usually settle into once he adjusts to the light in a room. 

His breath hitches, and with it comes a flush of color that would make him laugh if he wasn’t so blindsided. He can see Brad continue to stroke his cheek, but can’t bring himself to focus and feel the sensation. 

“Isn’t it lovely?” Brad muses, not a whisper. He taps the-- the _bell,_ trails a finger up his throat. Closes Taako’s mouth for him. “I wasn’t sure about the _color,_ but I think… yes, this suits you. This _suits_ you, pet.” 

Taako manages to swallow, throat feeling dry. Opens his mouth to speak again, but Brad closes it again, more firmly. 

“You’ve been so good, pet,” Brad explains, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Makes eye contact through the reflection while he slowly undoes the rest of the buttons on Taako’s blouse. Speaks quietly, but firm. “This is your _reward._ ” 

Taako’s ears try to lower, find resistance on the side of Brad’s face. He swallows again, closes his eyes and whimpers. 

“Now now, none of that. I’m not punishing you, pet.” Brad tilts his chin up, turns it towards him. “When you’re good, I’ll allow you to wear this. Do you understand?” 

Taako opens one eye, then the other. Frowns against the kiss Brad pulls him into. 

Brad breaks it with a murmured _let me show you_ . Presses a hand to Taako’s back to lead him back to the bed. 

He feels-- heavy, impossibly so. A weight in his muscles that brings him to the mattress with a graceless flop onto it.   

He barely notices when Brad sinks to his knees in front of him, noses at his inner thigh. Says, “It’s a reward.” 

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Taako croaks, finally. Voice sounding distant. He winces at the faint tinkle of the bell that speaking caused. 

“Pet. Have I ever been dishonest with you?” 

Taako avoids his eye. “Mm.” 

“Look at me.” 

Despite his soured mood, Taako does so. Realizes, abruptly, what Brad is doing. “Brad--” 

“You’ve been so _good,_ ” Brad says again, shifting the skirt up. He leans in, kisses the inside of Taako’s thigh above his stockings. Flicks his eyes up at him. “This can’t all be about _punishment._ Discouraging poor behavior...” He presses another kiss, to Taako’s other thigh. Uses his hands to spread them further apart until Taako’s gait aches, deliciously. “...Is only half the job. I want to _encourage_ you, too. Do you understand, my pet?” 

“Y-yuh huh,” Taako replies, voice cracking. He startles when Brad kisses his cock through his-- frankly _scandalous_ sheer white underwear. Claps his hand over his mouth to keep from crying out, realizing that at some point he must have gotten aroused by... _this._

“Shift up for me, please,” Brad murmurs, and Taako nearly guffaws at the _please,_ half certain he’s never heard the word from Brad before. He does as he’s- requested, really, rather than ordered. And that’s a strange thought, but _good,_ and he feels a smile form as Brad pulls his underwear down, down, down, over his knees and past his feet. There’s a half struggle to get them over his heels but Brad manages. Places them on the bed next to Taako, rather than tossing them aside without regard for them. Taako quirks an ear up at that, before yelping when Brad takes his cock into his mouth in one swift, hot and wet movement. 

He doubles over, hands flying to grip onto the sides of Brad’s head. He almost pulls them away when he realizes what he’s done, but swallows and pushes his fingers into Brad’s hair, thick and soft and smelling clean, like Brad’s shampoo and soap. Lemongrass and something spicy, something warm. Something that makes his hair as soft and as shiny as it is. 

Taako licks his upper lip, runs his nails down Brad’s scalp, whispers a brave _that’s good._

Brad hums, agreeable; sinks his nails into Taako’s thighs bruisingly hard and Taako knows, somehow, that this is also a _reward._ That _rewards_ won’t all be kindness and presents but what he likes, uncomplicated and free from having to pull it out of Brad thread by thread. 

It still feels like a _setup,_ a trap or something, but Taako doesn’t mind walking into it willingly if it means Brad’s tongue on his cock. Not a rare occurrence, but an uncommon one for sure. Taako whimpers and presses his cheek against the crown of Brad’s head, humiliated that he’s so dangerously close to the edge already and it’s been mere minutes. But if Brad can sense this he ignores it, focuses his tongue on the underside of Taako’s shaft, makes pleased rumbles Taako can _feel_ through his cock. 

He comes, clawing hard at Brad’s scalp. Keeps himself from bucking his hips up when he does so, but only just. 

And Brad swallows, performative. Pulls away and licks at his upper lip with a flash of eye contact before he pulls his nails from Taako’s thighs, allowing the trapped blood to pool and drip down his skin, warm and wet. 

Brad shifts to one knee, catching Taako’s open, panting mouth with his own, kisses him through the whine Taako doesn’t think to try to hold back. “Good boy,” he murmurs into Taako’s mouth. “My good boy. See what happens when you’re good for me?” 

Taako lets out a small, slightly shattered laugh, turns his head to break the kiss. “Yeah? Sure you aren’t just showing off?” 

“Perhaps a little,” Brad chuckles, settling on both knees before him. He undoes the buttons on Taako’s skirt, pulls the it up and over his head in one swift movement, and sits back. “Gods.” 

“What.” Taako’s ears flatten, and he unthinkingly reaches for the collar before pulling his hand back. 

“You can touch it.” 

“Don’t want to.” 

Brad nods once, turns his gaze down only to trail it back up slowly. He works Taako’s heels off before absently rubbing his feet. “It’s just. I couldn’t have planned a prettier picture if I’d tried.” He smirks as Taako reddens, from his cheeks well into the tips of his ears. Brad kneads his thumb into the pad of Taako’s foot, earns a soft noise. “They match. It might as well have been a set, made together.” He shifts up and brings his forehead to Taako’s. “You’re lovely. I want to fuck you.” 

“Jesus,” Taako blurts, ears making an audible _fwip_ as they flatten. 

“What?” 

“You just ain’t usually so direct, my dude,” Taako answers, avoiding his eye, leaning into the hand Brad brings to his face. 

Brad thumbs at the apple of his cheek, noses in with a hum. “You’re _lovely,_ ” he repeats, voice low and intimate. “You’re so _good,_ pet.” 

“Mm.” Taako’s lips thin and he tests wrapping his arms around Brad’s shoulders. “Yeah? Good enough that I can like...make a request?” 

“Hmmm.” Brad pulls back only slightly, smirking. “What did you have in mind?” 

Taako feels suddenly, monstrously vulnerable. He immediately breaks eye contact. “I was joking.” 

“No, go on. I’m curious now.” Brad leans into his view, tilts Taako’s chin up. “Pet?” 

“It’s just. We haven’t done it like… usually you fuck me over the desk or in your chair,” Taako explains, voice feeling thin. More than ever he feels like this might be some sort of elaborate trap, and he’s sinking into it, making it _worse._ He quirks an ear up. “But it’s. Been a while, since I’ve been _here,_ and here we can--” He stops himself, ears lowering again. “I know it’s _boring--”_

“You want me to fuck you missionary.” 

The bluntness with which Brad says it makes Taako instantly self conscious, sends a jolt through him that rings the bell on his-- _reward,_ that makes him even more aware of how honest the request had been. He colors and looks away, croaks, “You could tie me up or something if you want!”   

“Pet, this is about what _you_ want,” Brad murmurs, leaning in to ghost his lips over Taako’s jaw. He trails his hands up Taako’s bared torso, feeling him shiver. “Pet. _Kitten._ ” 

Taako squeaks, tightening his arms around Brad’s shoulders, ears standing up in alert. 

“No good?” Brad asks, quiet. 

Taako shakes his head, presses his cheek to Brad’s neck with a mumbled _it’s fine._

“Fine?” 

“...Good.” 

Brad laughs, wraps his arms around Taako’s middle. “Kitten,” he repeats, firmer now. “My pet, _my_ kitten, if that’s what you want.” He slides his hands down Taako’s back, hooks them under his thighs and lifts, easily enough. 

Brad lets Taako drop from a short height onto the mattress, straddles over him. Watches him as Taako settles into the pillows and gets comfortable. 

He winces at the sound of the bell, but is kissed, hard, before he can complain. Leans into it, arms wrapping themselves around Brad’s shoulders again, hand sinking into Brad’s hair, clawing at his scalp. 

Brad pulls a hand back to work his belt off, slightly clumsy but too invested in the kiss to pull back and shift focus elsewhere. Lets out a noise against Taako’s mouth that he’s never been privy to before, a noise that makes Taako smile unseen, hand stroking Brad’s cheek, stubble rough and perfect. There’s a _zip_ sound of the belt being pulled through the loops on Brad’s slacks, and suddenly a pressure against Taako’s thigh as Brad uncharacteristically grinds, ruts, against his leg. A display of eagerness and greed Brad never _allows_ Taako to see, always so in control, stoic. Participating but distant from what they _did_ together. 

Taako breaks the kiss with a gasp, turns his head and doesn’t wince at the jingle of his collar. The collar. Moans out a greedy _finger me,_ sneers in glee as Brad shoves his fingers into his own mouth to comply. 

Trap or no, Taako could get used to Brad listening for once. He hisses, hips shifting hard as Brad sinks one finger inside of him, curls into him the way he knows Taako likes. Thrusts for as long as he sees fit before pulling out and plunging back in with two fingers. Spreads and scissors inside of him with a scrape that sends electricity up Taako’s spine, opens his mouth and makes him whine, cry out. A noise between pained and pleasured, the safeword nowhere on his tongue. 

Taako’s sharp elven ears hear the sound of Brad unzipping his slacks.  “Pet,” he says, a rumble into Taako’s neck. “Do you- 

“Yes, god, yes just. Fuck, yes, fuck me,” Taako whimpers, spreading his thighs. He stares up as Brad shifts onto his knees, pulling his polo over his head, making a slight mess of his hair, skewing his frames for but a moment before Brad pulls them off and places them on the nightstand. Taako eyes him, unapologetically drinking him in-- rarely getting much of a chance to enjoy Brad _completely_ like this, his own face usually shoved into the mattress or a blindfold tied over his eyes. 

Brad smirks and hums the lubrication spell, hand gripped around the base of his cock, suddenly shiny with something arcane and slick, before he crawls back over Taako and settles around him, heavy and hot. Lips pressed into Taako’s jaw, teeth a teasing scrape as he presses the tip of his cock against Taako and slides home. 

Taako jolts despite himself, realizes that he’s wound too tight, muscles taut. He allows himself to relax, clenches and unclenches a hand in Brad’s hair as he nuzzles against his cheek and whines out _harder,_ free of self consciousness. Raw with greed and lust. 

Brad bites his shoulder hard, drawing blood from the scrape of his tusks with ease. Taako whimpers, closes his thighs around Brad tighter, growls out another _harder,_ rolling his hips up when Brad sinks his teeth in deeper. He doesn’t bite back the sneer when he says _good boy,_ and if Brad notices it he doesn’t say anything. Not yet. 

He barely notices the incessant jingle of his collar as Brad ruts into him, too focused on the feeling of his nails digging into Brad’s shoulders, the heat and wet of breath on his neck, the sound of Brad’s grunts as he snaps his hips, fucking him bruisingly hard. Hands keep Taako’s hips steady, pressed down into the mattress so that Brad hits him at just the right angle, the one that unravels him, loosens him up until he’s boneless and limp and mewling against Brad’s skin. Vocal and wordless all at once, lost in the feeling of white hot claw marks on his back and teeth sunk into his shoulders. 

Taako grinds up, cock pressed against Brad’s belly, regretfully being ignored in favor of Brad’s thrusting. Not done, yet, and too teasing. A familiar selfishness Taako would normally tolerate, but instead he whimpers, turns his head to whine into Brad’s ear, voice a rasp. “Gods I’m close.” 

Brad tongues at an open wound on Taako’s shoulder, trails up further to the base of Taako’s ear. Answers with a bite there, sharp and near puncturing, just as a hand slides between them and fingers wrap around Taako’s length, warm and slick with sweat. Clumsy fucks and Brad’s calloused hand around his cock are enough to bring him over, coming with a bite into Brad’s neck, thin sharp fangs piercing skin with four perfect, tiny circular wounds. 

Brad growls, nearly feral, and bites back, claws sinking into Taako’s thighs, tearing through the stockings as he fucks recklessly hard into him, a ruthless stutter until the hot, wet flood Taako’s so familiar with shoots into him, leaks down the curve of his ass. 

He lays back and pants, arms hitting the mattress with a heavy _whump_ as he struggles to catch his breath. Licks at the blood salt taste on his lips. 

Taako’s eyes flutter open at the feeling of a hand at his throat, the sound of metal and then, a pull, the collar removed. He squints. “Uh. Whatcha doing.” 

Brad sneers down at him, placing the collar aside and bringing his hand back to Taako’s throat. Presses in, cutting off Taako’s startled gasp. “You _were_ good, but that only gets you so _far_ , pet. ” He loosens his hand, trails his claw up Taako’s jaw. Restraining, not scratching him. Not yet. “Barking orders? _Biting_ me? Tsk _tsk,_ pet. Did you really think I wasn’t keeping a _tally?”_

Taako’s eyes widen, lips twitching up into a nervous half smile. “Heh. You’re a jackass.” 

“Another tally.” 

“Worth it.” Taako pushes himself up on his elbows, looks Brad’s neck over, at the trail of red over green skin. Licks his lips. “ _Worth_ it.” 

“You unrepentant brat.” Brad unceremoniously shoves him back onto the bed, hand too firm on his rib cage, drawing a pained gasp. Sneers and scratches a line down Taako’s bare chest. “If you plan on staying the weekend, it’ll be on my terms. You won’t be needing clothes until I say so. And I expect you to _obey_ my rules, pet, if you ever want to earn your collar again.” 

Taako’s eyes widen, flick towards the collar on the bed beside him, and back up at Brad with a scowl. “Aw, come on, I wasn’t that bad.” 

“And you can forget about having a say in what I order for dinner,” Brad adds, getting up and off the bed. 

“That ain’t fair,” Taako growls, narrowing his eyes. Plotting. “What if I make it up to you?” 

Brad is already off the bed, pulling a pair of pajama pants on. “Hmm.” 

“What if I cook?” 

“Hah.” Brad turns around at that, sneers. “I thought you _didn’t_ cook. Isn’t that what you said?” 

“I _can._ There’s a difference between _don’t_ and _can_ ,” Taako says breezily. Sits back on the bed and watches Brad make his way to the bathroom first to clean up, mouths an unheard _asswipe_ before sitting up and inspecting the scratch across his chest, and further still to the bite on his neck. Lets his fingers linger and play there on the raw, fresh tears, lazy arousal stirring in his gut as he lolls his head back. Wonders absently if Brad would be up for another fuck before dinner, before collapsing back against the pillows. 

The collar rings, gentle, musical. Taako turns his head, still absently prodding at the bite on his neck, other hand reaching for the collar. He pulls it up by one end, dangles it in front of him and narrows his eyes. 

His ear pricks up at the sound of water starting and he sits up, wipes the blood from his fingers onto the pillow and holds the collar taut in front of his neck. Turns to get a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room, tilts his chin up and squints. 

“Pet, would you--” Brad stops and Taako-- well, _freezes._ There’s no sense in pretending he wasn’t doing what he was doing, so he looks away and folds his hands between his splayed legs, collar and all. Feels Brad stare at him, dull sound of the water running hiding Taako’s slightly ragged breathing. 

Brad crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s a tally.” He walks over and takes the collar, sneering at him in close range. “But very sweet. Come. I started the bath for you.” 

He doesn’t wait for Taako to follow, but pauses in the doorway. Rings the collar purposefully, and Taako scrambles off the bed obediently, pads after him despite his legs feeling like jelly. 

“How do you feel about Dwarvish for dinner?” 

“Sounds good.”  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako helps with chores. Brad provides hands-on supervision.

Taako is dusting every item on the desk in Brad's apartment, individually and without any magic at all. Brad is seated in the chair just beside him, bent over paperwork. Occasionally brushing Taako's hand aside when they both reach for the same object at once, but otherwise ignoring him. 

Taako has been at least half-hard all day -- since after breakfast, really, when Brad ordered him to wait on his hands and knees on the bed, and fingered him right to the edge of orgasm, and shoved a large plug inside him that's stayed in place for most of the hours since. 

Most.

The plug itself is bad enough. He's worn one a couple of times before, prep for their "appointments" in Brad's office, but never anything this large. It's impossible to get used to, not uncomfortable so much as intensely _there_ , filing him up. Pushing against the root of his cock, enough to leave him throbbing but not enough to bring him over. Moving around the apartment makes it worse, the swing of his legs and his hips jostling it no matter how smoothly he tries to walk. 

Pants or underwear would have at least held it in place a little but that hasn't been an option so far. All of Taako’s clothes are folded in the tote bag he brought with him on Friday night, hung innocuously on a door knob. Everything except what's left of his shredded thigh highs, which Brad carefully rolled back up his legs that morning while they were still in bed.

The first instruction -- _order_ \-- was to wash their dishes from breakfast, which Taako went along with without complaint. It certainly wasn't the first time in his life that he’d done the dishes with his dick out, and the collar sat in full view on the nightstand, and honestly what _else_ was he there for?

So. He did what he was told. And halfway through the silverware Brad came up behind him, and grabbed a harsh handful of his hair, and pulled out the plug. And he bent Taako over the sink and fucked him, the water still running, his hands still wet and slick with soap. Bit into Taako's shoulder and growled that he wasn't to come -- that good, obedient pets knew how to wait. Shoved Taako's head under the faucet, hot water running down his face, over his ears, plastering locks of hair to his forehead and cheeks. Came inside him with a low, feral grunt, and licked the water off the back of his neck, and slid the plug back into his ass.

And then Brad wandered back to his desk to do whatever the hell he was doing. Left Taako braced against the counter, dripping wet and breathless and burning up with how fucking ridiculous a situation this was -- naked and washing dishes in some dude's apartment, desperate to be allowed to wear a collar with a fucking bell on it. 

Dizzyingly, painfully turned on by the thought.

So far he has cleaned the floor of the bathroom, the tub and the walls of the shower. He has wiped down the mirrors in the bathroom and over the bureau. Has swept and mopped the hardwood floor. Has folded and put away two loads of Brad's laundry. 

Has been fucked over the back of the couch, on the rug at the foot of the bed, up against the door of the closet. Has choked on Brad's cock while kneeling in the kitchen, his hands still in the rubber gloves he wore to scrub the tile. Has felt Brad's cum sliding down the inside of his leg while his cheek is shoved up against the windows, and then been ordered to clean his own faceprint from the glass.

And now. Picking up pens and notepads one at a time, wiping the nonexistent dust from their surfaces and replacing them exactly. Flawlessly. Aware of Brad looming in his peripheral vision and absolutely unwilling to give him even one more thing to add to that fucking tally.

It's this mulish determination that keeps Taako's eyes on his work when Brad abruptly pushes back his chair, stands, and walks out of sight. Taako's ears swivel to follow the sounds of footsteps behind him, padding around the perimeter of the bed. He very nearly drops his rag at the unmistakable tinkle of a small metal bell.

Taako picks up a crystal paperweight -- engraved with a date, the name of what's probably a school -- and keeps his eyes down. Wipes the cut edges with his rag. Does not stop (but can't entirely hide a jump of his shoulders) when Brad steps up behind him, leans down, and carefully loops the collar around his neck.

"You've been very good," Brad hums, low and rich, as he fastens it in place. "Uncharacteristically helpful." Taako can't quite bite back a gasp when the plug is pulled halfway out of him, then pressed back in, gentle but insistent. The second time, he's able to keep his breathing even, but there's no hiding the eager jump of his cock. 

Taako replaces the paperweight. Draws and blows out an uneven breath. Reaches for a leather-bound planner.

"Go and stand in front of the bureau," Brad says. "I wouldn't want to make a mess of my documents."

It takes a good deal of self-control to carefully set the planner down instead of dropping it on the desk; to fold the rag in half and hang it neatly on one of the file cabinet's handles, and turn, and walk at a normal speed across the room toward the bureau. Toward the mirror above it. Toward his own reflection, flushed and wild-eyed.

There's no more preamble now than there has been all afternoon. Brad yanks out the plug, and sets it deliberately on the bureau in Taako's line of sight. "Brace yourself against the mirror," he rumbles. And once Taako's palms are flat on the cool glass, Brad takes hold of his hips and pushes into him.

The collar's bell rings with this first thrust, high and musical. And again as Brad fucks into him, metallic chimes in sync with the wet slap of skin and the sway of his hair, the shapeless whines of pleasure and need that escape from between his clenched teeth. Brad's fingers curl, nails digging into Taako's skin, and Taako gasps out a single "please" before he can stop himself.

"Shhhhh," Brad purrs. "I didn't ask for your opinion, pet."

Taako watches his own mouth fall open in the mirror, panting and hungry. Watches himself rock his hips back to meet Brad's thrusts. He's so close, so _desperate_ , and surely by now Brad has had his fun with this. Surely _this time_ he'll-

"Enough," Brad murmurs, abruptly still. Taako rolls his hips, encouraging, but Brad is already pulling out. Stepping away and to the side. Holding Taako's eyes with his own in the mirror.

Taako can see most of Brad's body from here, still fully dressed but for his open fly; can certainly see his cock, hard and glistening and held loosely in one hand. "You gorgeous thing," Brad says, with a smirk that undercuts the sweetness of his words. "You want me to fuck your mouth again."

Taako nods, tight-lipped. Silently pleading.

"A shame," Brad murmurs.

As Taako watches, Brad's hand begins to move -- lazy strokes that gradually focus into something more deliberate. Brad's lips parted, his breath hitching. A rare sight and absolutely mesmerizing. Taako derives some small satisfaction in how little time it takes for Brad to spill through his fingers, and in the raw lust Brad can't quite disguise as he tips over the edge.

Brad takes a moment to collect himself again. Tucks his softening cock back into this pants. Strides forward and wipes a smear of cum from his palm onto the curve of Taako's ass, just above the hem of one ruined stocking.

"You earned your _collar_ ," Brad says, in reply to the protest Taako isn't allowed to make. He leans in to peck Taako's cheek, chaste and infuriating. "There are handprints on my mirror, pet,” he rumbles into Taako’s ear. And Taako watches Brad’s reflection reach around his neck to flick the little bell. “Make sure to take care of that once you're through with the desk."

And once again he's left standing alone, his cock still painfully hard and his legs shaking with tension. 

Brad sits himself back at his desk and reaches for a yellow notepad, calm and unhurried, as if he hadn't jacked off seconds before; as if Taako weren't a few feet away, leaning heavily on elbows planted on the top of the dresser. 

Taako doesn't have to be here. He doesn't have to _do_ this. He could walk across the room and get his bag and put on the change of clothes he brought. He could go home to his apartment, and tell Magnus and Merle that his plans fell through, and shut himself up in his room to jerk off until his balls shrivel up. Hell, he could walk into basically any club in Neverwinter and find a dozen hot hairy orc dudes who'd _beg_ for the chance to fuck him until he comes all over their chests.

He lifts his eyes to watch himself in the mirror. Really _looks_ this time, instead of letting his eyes skitter past the uncomfortable details. 

The bruises and bite marks are fine. Those he's used to, and if he's honest, just the fact that Brad's allowed him to keep these lewd trophies makes him want to pin that asshole to the bed and ride him, even if he has cast Mage Hand to hold himself up when his aching leg muscles inevitably give out. No, the scabbed-over puncture wounds on his shoulder don’t bother him at all; he's made peace with this particular offshoot of his own weird-ass pervert bullshit.

The look on his face, however, is unsettling. 

He's fucked in front of mirrors, of course, but usually the point of it was being able to see the face of the guy he was fucking. And he's bottomed before, plenty of times, but even then he's always been the one in charge. Any interaction with Taako's body is a motherfucking privilege, and Taako's always made sure that the other dude _knows_ it, and does what he's told, and is properly grateful. For most of the years of his adult life -- and as an elf, he's had many -- when he's regarded himself in the bathroom after sex, his expression has been some variant of exhausted smug satisfaction. 

Not...this. Not the starved, panting, desperate wreck that stares back at him from the mirror. An expression he's carefully cultivated in others, and now performs for someone else. For Brad, who talks of owning him. Who calls him "pet" and "kitten" and expects to be obeyed.

Who gave him a _collar_ and calls it a reward.

Taako forces himself to really look at it, now. Reaches up to touch the soft maroon leather. He knows enough about such things to understand that this was expensive. The edges are burnished gorgeously, smooth and rounded and comfortable against his skin. The stitching is perfect and even and nearly invisible. The hardware is all real silver, not plate. The bell, he now sees, has been engraved with delicate vines and flowers. And with a "T" in looping cursive, tucked into the center of one curved metal leaf. 

_His_ collar. Made for _him_. 

He runs the pad of his thumb over the engraving, feeling the minute ridges. Sees, behind and to one side of him, that Brad is watching all of this from his desk. Not openly, either, but out of the corner of one eye, as if hoping to go unnoticed. Nostrils flaring as he breathes. Pen unmoving in his hand on the desk. 

Brad gave him a collar. Brad paid someone to _make_ him a collar. Brad is surreptitiously watching Taako examine it; is drawn bowstring-tight in his desk chair.

Carefully avoiding eye contact, Taako pushes up and off his elbows; reaches for the plug and holds it up in front of him. This late in the day he'd like to at least wash it off first, but that's not the kind of weakness that's going to get him what he wants. So he reaches back around himself, finds the right place, and pushes it smoothly into his ass, which is pliant and spell-slick and tender from so much attention. 

And then he goes to fetch the soft rag and bottle of cleaner he's been instructed to use on glass surfaces, and sets about removing his own hand prints from the mirror.

"When you've finished with that," Brad says evenly, "go and run a bath. You know how I like it." The sound of shifting paper; a glance confirms that Brad is now actually looking down at his work. "Then come back here to me."

Taako could pretend at ignorance. He could get down on the floor and crawl up to Brad's chair, and look up from under his lashes, meekly ask to be told more precisely what to do. Could lean down over the edge of the tub with Brad standing behind him, and angle his ass in the most enticing way, the base of the plug plainly visible. He could probably tempt Brad into fucking him again. Could probably even come, at last, if he begged for it; if he made the right noises, put on a good enough show.

He walks into the bathroom, his ass tensed in resistance to the downward pull of gravity, every step punctuated by a slick shift inside him. Runs the taps, check the temperature, and adds a few drops of lemongrass oil. Sets folded towels on the edge of the sink. Turns the lamps down to warm, cocooning dimness. 

Brad is scribbling numbers in the margins of some report or another when Taako kneels on the floor beside his chair. He's gotten much better at it in the last couple of months, his legs folding smoothing beneath him, his hands flat on the tops of his thighs. He sits on his heels with just enough force to ring the bell on his collar.

For once, he isn't made to wait. Brad scratches out another line or so and then sets his pen aside. "Very good," he rumbles, and smoothes a palm along the back of Taako's skull. "You've had an eventful day, pet. I expect you're ready to get cleaned up."

Taako thinks about the layers of cum and lube that have dried on the insides of his thighs, and very nearly laughs out loud. 

Brad's hand slides down the nape of Taako's neck, tucked under what's left of the braid that Taako pulled his hair into that morning. "Stand up," Brad says, and Taako obeys at once — he's gotten much better at this, as well, no longer needing to brace himself on the desk or the chair, unless he's been kept on his knees long enough to be a punishment. He knows to stand within easy reach, but still far enough away to be observed. To be looked at, as Brad now looks: a long considering drag of his eyes from stockinged feet to Taako's almost-averted gaze.

Almost. He catches Brad's eyes for a moment, an electric pause of breath and heartbeat. Brad's throat moves as he swallows and says, "You won't be needing these," and Taako shivers at the feel of warm hands on the sensitive insides of his thighs as one stocking, then the other, is carefully pulled down. Brad lifts Taako's feet, cups each heel in his palm and tugs the tattered fabric off pointed toes; holds the second foot aloft as he dips his head to kiss the bared knee. "Or this," he says. And his grip on Taako's foot tightens into a command to hold still as he reaches around to press the base of the plug.

"Relax," Brad murmurs, and there's no need to clarify. The effort of holding the plug in place -- through kneeling and everything else -- is considerable. And as Taako lets go with a soft exhale the plug begins to slide out of him, slowed by the pressure of Brad's fingers, until only the tip is still inside.

A frantic moment of silently weighing odds and options, then Taako bends just far enough to push his nose into Brad's hair. Whispers "Please," and is rewarded with a low chuckle that raises gooseflesh on his arms.

The plug falls away from where Taako can feel it. "Wipe yourself down with a washcloth," Brad murmurs, "then sit in the tub and wait for me." He kneads the ball of Taako's foot. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you what you aren't allowed to do."

"No."

"Good." Brad reaches up to palm Taako's balls, lifting them gently. Runs his thumb up the underside of Taako's straining erection. "I won't be long."

Brad releases Taako's foot; pulls both hands away and turns again to the work on his desk. And Taako has a wild, heady fantasy of sitting his bare ass down on Brad's papers, legs spread wide as he begs to be fucked, begs to be used after waiting for so long. He imagines dragging his nails down that broad green back, and biting into a muscular shoulder, and making a mess of those careful files, those tidy stacks of paper, as the snap of Brad's hips rocks his body against them. 

Taako reaches up to touch the collar; to run his fingertip along a smooth line of stitches.

The bathroom is clouded with fragrant steam as Taako fills the sink with warm water. It would have taken Brad a moment to hum the worst of his mess away, but Taako finds that he honestly doesn't mind this particular drudgery. Brad's washcloths are soft, and the soap smells of bergamot, and the warm weight of wet fabric is delicious on new bruises. 

He's midway through scrubbing dried cum from his neck when he hears the door open and shut behind him. He knows better than to pause; knows that Brad is here to watch him dip the cloth into the sink basin, and wring it out, and drag it over his chest. The mirror is fogged with condensation, but still he can see the blurred shape of Brad's body, a silhouette shaded in green and black.

The washcloth is draped over the tap of the sink. Without looking behind him -- without any indication that he's noticed Brad at all -- Taako steps over the high wall of the bathtub and gingerly sinks into the water. Sits crosslegged in the center of the tub, and lifts a hand to the collar again.

"You can leave it on, pet," Brad says, indulgent; answering the unspoken question. "A bath won't hurt it."

Taako does look up at him, then, and has to stifle a bark of overwhelmed laughter. Brad looms over him, naked and glistening and unfairly good looking, his hair twisted into a high tight knot. He smirks and says, "Shift forward." And once Taako's slid closer to the tap, Brad steps into the tub behind him, and stretches his legs out to either side of Taako's hips; takes hold of Taako's shoulders with his now-wet hands and pulls, gentle but unyielding, until Taako is propped against his chest. 

"You've been so good for me today, kitten," Brad murmurs. A hand slides along Taako's collarbone and up his throat. Over the collar. Applies pressure just below his jaw, which thins his air and eases his head back, his chin up, until his neck is arched and his head lolls on Brad's shoulder. "You deserve a reward, I think."

The harsh rasp of Taako's breath echoes off the tile. Brad's thumb drags over the line of his jaw, up to the swell of his bottom lip. "Last night I allowed you to do as you liked," Brad murmurs, "but that proved to be too much leeway, didn't it? Too much room for poor behavior." 

"Please," Taako whispers, hoarse from the angle of his neck. "I'll be good, I promise I'll be good, please, I-"

"Shh." There's a faint splash as Brad shifts his other arm, his hand moving under the water to find Taako's thigh. "Lift your knees," he says. "Keep them spread."

Taako uncrosses his legs and plants his feet on the porcelain, his weight shifting more heavily to Brad behind him, to the firm bulk of torso and hips. He's pinned by the hand on his throat as the other slides up the inside of his leg; stops just short of his balls. "You've been very patient," Brad coos, shaded with sarcasm but still so soft. Still so rich and warm. "But I think there's something you want. Isn't there?"

" _Yes_."

Brad's thumb presses against Taako's jaw, turning his head away from Brad's neck. A moment later he feels the hot wet slide of a tongue along the curve of his ear. Taako whines through his nose, a pathetic sound that catches and trembles as Brad gently sucks on the lobe. "No need to be quiet," Brad murmurs, a close roar of breath. "I already know how much you want this, pet. I know."

"Jesus," Taako gasps, panting, as Brad ghosts fingertips along his cock under the water; nips at his ear lobe, just shy of too painful. Brad is hard again, now, and shifts until the hot line of his erection lays along the valley of Taako's ass, presses up against his balls. 

"I want to hear you." Hot tongue sliding over the inner ridges of his ear, electric; fingers mercifully curling, closing around him but still too gentle, too loose, until Taako cries out in honest anguish, hips twitching up to meet Brad's hand. "You're so good, kitten," Brad rumbles indulgently; affectionately. "You're such a good boy for me."

Taako's voice breaks over a shouted "oh _god_ " as the day catches up with him all at once, as an orgasm crashes through him with a violence that rings the bell at his neck and spills water over the sides of the tub, Brad's hands holding him down, holding him close as he keens and shudders through the aftershocks. 

"So lovely," Brad whispers against his neck, hand still softly cupped around his cock as his breathing slows to something like normal. "My lovely little thing."

Taako's ear jumps reflexively as Brad kisses the skin just behind it, and both of them laugh. An easy, undisguised moment in the midst of all this guarded choreography. 

It dissolves what's left of the tension between them, although not in a way that Taako minds. He looks down at the water -- at the evidence of his orgasm floating on the surface -- and makes a face. "Yuck."

"Well, what did you expect," Brad says, dry, then hums it away with a few easy bars.

"You're handy," Taako says. Loose-limbed and warm and pleasantly sprawled, Brad a comfortable bulk behind him. "I should keep you around."

"Mm." 

Taako shifts in the water and turns onto his side, his legs tucked up and his cheek against Brad's sternum. The tub is large, and the water's still pleasantly hot, and Brad is very nice to lie on, really. Cartoonishly broad and solid; still smelling of sweat and sex. His fingers idly stroking Taako's back.

The bell rings as Taako moves, of course, a little jarring without the earlier haze of horniness and desperation. He doesn't particularly want to take it off, which...he supposes he'll have to think on that one more deeply later. Maybe.

There's a soft splish of water as Taako lifts his hand to his neck. He rubs the bell's engraving with his thumb. "Hey, Brad," he says quietly.

"Mm?" 

"This ah...." He digs his nail into a gap between the metal leaves. "Listen, we're both adults here."

"Chronologically."

Just enough of the day's mood lingers that he swallows the "asshole" he wants to shoot back. Instead, he sighs and grips the bell tighter and says, "This can't be the first time you've given someone one of these."

Brad's hand stills; presses, splayed, to the small of Taako's back. "No," Brad says. And then adds, very quietly, "Yours is the third."

"Where're the other two?" Taako asks, before he can talk himself out of it. "Like in a drawer somewhere?"

"I don't know," Brad says. "They belonged to the men I gave them to. Those men kept them when we parted ways." 

Taako laughs a little, nerves and awkwardness. "What like a souvenir?"

"You'd have to ask them."

"Ah," Taako says, out of words for once. His pulse is loud in his ears; faster than the heartbeat he can feel against his cheek. 

How old is Brad? In his thirties, at least. How many men has he been with? Taako's sure that it has to be more than three, hadn't Brad mentioned a boyfriend in college? At least one or two other guys since he'd started at the bureau? Right? God, they never talk about this stuff. Taako doesn't _want_ to talk about this stuff, has very deliberately not asked about it at all, why is he...

Taako summons what he hopes is a convincing snort. Says, "I bet mine was the most expensive."

"Mm."

"Custom job, right?" Taako drawls. "I mean, it had better be, I'm worth it."

Brad pinches his ass hard enough to make him yelp. "Right now you're dangerously close to losing it for the evening."

“The evening,” Taako says. 

“I’m not a tyrant,” Brad rumbles, still amused. “I’d be willing to reconsider in the morning, in light of good behavior.”

Taako loops a wet curl of chest hair around the tip of his finger. “The morning.”

“Is what comes after evening, yes.”

“So I...” He flattens his hand on Brad’s chest. “You’re telling me to stay the night again.”

Brad doesn’t immediately answer; takes long enough for Taako to for real worry he’s fucked this up somehow, stumbled across some tripwire he didn’t know was there.

Brad lifts his hand out of the water to skim his fingers up Taako’s spine, up to the nape of Taako’s neck. Rests their slight but solid weight on the buckle of the collar. “And if I am.”

Taako’s mouth hangs open, now, his breath gone suddenly shallow. “Say it,” he murmurs. Licks his lips. “Please say it.”

“You’ll stay,” Brad says, all gravel and heat. 

Fucking _hell_. “Yes.”

Brad hooks a finger between leather and skin; pulls the collar tight against the line of Taako’s throat. “You’ll stay and show me how good you can be.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako gets breakfast in bed. So does Brad.

It’s Sunday morning and Taako still hasn’t been allowed to put clothes on, save for his stockings, and gloves for the chores. Not even pyjamas - after the final round late last night he’d eyed his overnight bag but Brad had just snorted, said, “I don’t think so,” and batted the bell on the collar, gently, but enough for it to ring out. “This is enough.”

He’d let Taako ride him, as a reward, except Taako had quickly learned all these rewards could be barbed, double-edged things - hard to ride someone when you’ve been so comprehensively fucked your legs hardly work. Which is probably why Brad didn’t sneer when he finally took over, just sat up on the edge of the couch and lifted Taako bodily onto his cock until he’d come with a pathetic thin little wail, Brad not long after.

Taako went to bed naked and woke up with fingers in his mouth and a warm body pressed up to his back, Brad breathing “How good are you going to be today, kitten?” in his ear. The jump from sleep to awake-and-horny had been so fast it left him dizzy, and then he’d had Brad’s hand on his abdomen and Brad’s cock - already slick, fuck, he must have done it before he even bothered waking Taako up - between his thighs, and a tightly snarled instruction to _keep your legs together, pet_ in his ear. His own arousal had ratcheted up so quickly that when Brad’s hand, wet with Taako’s own spit, curled around his cock and stroked him once he’d come hard enough that he couldn’t even summon the breath to whimper. He’d barely had time to process it, which somehow made it better.

And now, here they are. He’s still naked and he’s curled against Brad’s side, being fed, bits of toast and fruit, morsels of Brad’s own breakfast in bed, the arm around Taako’s shoulders turning the pages of the fucking newspaper, which given the fact they’re on a moon Taako can’t help but think is a prop specifically there to piss him off.

It should make him furious. A part of him is furious, rails against the humiliation of it, of this caricature of intimacy, a subtle mockery after the endless chores and deliberate arms-length denials of yesterday. Wants to drop this pliable act and push Brad into either fucking him or kicking him out.

But for once, that part is kept in check, weighed down by the collar around his neck; held at bay by the guilty thud of shame-tinged arousal he feels every time Brad’s fingers absently press a strawberry against his lips, thumbing at his mouth as he eats. Taako dares to press the tip of his tongue against the pad of Brad’s fingers, gets nothing but a soft chuckle in response.

No tally, at least.

Brad offers him a piece of toast, eyes still on the paper; Taako shakes his head, feels a reluctant little thrill at the jingle of the bell. “Taako’s good.”

“Full?” Brad asks, and he nods.

The hand around his shoulders slides up and down his back, pressing firmly against his spine. It’s - nice, to be held, caressed - especially when the not-so-casual pass of Brad’s hand presses just so into the welts on his back. So he can’t even bring himself to care about Brad’s probable agenda, just leans further into Brad’s chest and lets his eyes slip shut as he starts purring.

It doesn’t take long at all. Brad’s hand circles lower, lower; he starts tracing claws over the swell of Taako’s ass, slips a finger in between to push at his asshole.

“Gods, you don’t stop, do you?” Taako murmurs against his chest.

“You ungrateful little wretch,” Brad remarks, but he’s just as relaxed as Taako, and there’s no heat behind it.

“It’s good,” he says anyway, wanting to clarify, to avoid the sort of misstep that might have him - who knows, this time, organising Brad’s filing cabinet or some shit. _Make those hanging files even, pet, you know I like precision._ “Just. Aren’t you like. Sore.”

There’s a pause, and then neutrally, “Are you?”

He wriggles from side to side, a whole body version of the _maybe, maybe not_ hand gesture. “Could go for some healing if you wanna fuck me against a wall again.”

Brad hums, considering. And then deliberately unwraps his arm from around Taako’s shoulders, neatly folds the newspaper and puts it on the breakfast tray; straightens the used cutlery - _for fuck’s sake, Bradson, we’re not at brunch with your grandma_ , Taako thinks - and very carefully leans over to put the tray on the floor next to the bed.

Anticipation is already curling around Taako’s belly as Brad straightens back up in bed. He hooks his index finger through the collar, pressed up against the line of Taako’s throat, and guides him forward; the bell rings out cheerily. “Lie on your front. Facing away.” And then, smirking, “Spread your legs.”

Taako laughs a little, uncertain. “Are you gonna… I wasn’t kidding, actually, I’m kinda-“

“Don’t question me, pet,” Brad tells him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His mouth turns up slightly at the corner, acknowledging of the irony, but it’s at odds with the clear sincerity in his eyes. And the thing is, weirdly, despite this whole weekend being a no-holds-barred tour of how far this pervert orc is prepared to go to wreck him, Taako trusts Brad. Impossibly, insanely, so.

So he goes, huffs a breath as he folds his arms, presses his forehead against them. Stretches his legs apart, muffles an actual moan of genuine pain against the comforter. Turns out his inner thighs don’t get much of a workout in training. Who knew.

He’s expecting a finger. A toy maybe. Eventually Brad’s cock, maybe gentle, probably slow at least, a lazy drawn-out rut against the sheets. It sounds… pretty good, actually, and his hips are already idly twitching against the bed, heat pooling in his abdomen, when he feels Brad’s hands, kneading gently, pulling apart. And then the hot wet slide of Brad’s tongue up the cleft of his ass.

He shouts. He can’t help it. Kicks his leg, reflexively, and Brad is murmuring, “Good boys stay still,” and wrapping a firm hand around the meat of his thigh, claws digging in. “Don’t do that again.”

Taako makes a drunken, strained sort of noise but does manage to keep his legs still - albeit trembling - as Brad licks a broad, flat stripe across his asshole. “Jesus.”

Brad makes a small noise of agreement, leans forward; the press of his fangs into Taako’s skin is a small, painful counterpoint to the slick pulse of tongue pushing against him. Taako whimpers, settles back into the rhythm, huffs quick breaths in time with Brad’s movement. It feels - dirtier, somehow, the circling pass of Brad’s tongue over him wet and easy and making his whole body twitch and tremble.

His thighs still ache, too, but it’s all background noise to the rapid skittering pulse up his spine, the rock of his hips down into the bed, rubbing his cock against Brad’s sheets - not enough to get anywhere but, gods, if he can’t move he’s going to _die_ -

Brad withdraws and Taako whines, full-throated and wanting, which gets him a sharp smack to the ass and a clipped, “Knees underneath you. Keep them wide.”

He does as he’s told, head spinning with humiliation and lust, but lust wins out when Brad resettles against him and he doesn’t even think to feel ashamed of pushing back against it, against the filthy slide of Brad’s tongue. Brad says something, low-voiced and dirty; Taako barely processes it but the tone and the rumble of it against him have him choking on air, asshole fluttering under Brad’s attentions. A bare minute later, a high little moan as it pushes _inside him, **fuck** ,_ at the same time as Brad’s hand comes up to wrap around his cock and he comes, distantly aware that he’s keening, unable to stop it.

He can’t even move. Just slides his legs back out so he’s lying flat, mumbles “Jesus fucking christ,” against the sheets. Doesn’t say, _remind me never to argue with you again_.

There’s a pat on his ass, almost affectionate, and then the bed shakes as Brad moves, gets up; the rustle and clink as he picks up the tray. “I’m just putting this away,” he rumbles. “I’ll be back.”

“Mngh,” Taako says. Tries to collect himself as he listens to the distant sounds of Brad padding into the kitchen, putting things in the sink, the rush of the tap as he, what, fills a glass of water or something? Honestly, Taako doesn’t really care, he’s just absently tracking how long it takes before Brad comes back over and decides to ruin Taako in some new and doubtless humiliating way.

Brad returns; the glass is placed on the bedside table. “Pet.”

He lifts his head, squints in Brad’s direction, blows the hair out of his face. “What.” Looks down to Brad’s pyjamas - of course _Brad_ still got pyjamas - and to his cock, which hasn’t exactly flagged during the kitchen interlude.

Brad smirks. “I’ve got a couple of ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the team for the beta. Definitely don’t at me about this one I’m SERIOUS (@rqtheory_)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako reflects on the weekend. Brad makes a discovery.

The sun has already begun to dip when Taako comes to - awakening slowly, at first, the sounds of water hitting tile in the next room prodding him awake. He shifts, trying to block out the light still filtering through the blinds, and when he hears the soft, musical  _ ting _ of the bell on the collar he's still wearing - nearly all he's wearing - he remembers, slowing piecing together where he is (Brad's apartment), why he's naked (he hasn't been allowed clothes all weekend), and why he's sore (he  _ hasn't been allowed clothes all weekend _ ). 

He rolls over, shaking off the remnants of the afternoon snooze he slipped into, he supposes, after their last round - face pressed into the couch cushion, while Brad fucked him, slow and deliberate, from behind. He splays his legs, hips aching, popping his joints, stretching his limbs. His thighs are sore, and his back, from the sharp arch Brad has pressed him into over and over this weekend. The worst of it Brad had insisted on healing - and Taako conceded that they should at least stop him bleeding - but the rest Brad has allowed him to wear. He lets the tips of his fingers dance over the partially repaired gash in his shoulder, runs them down his sides, enjoying the marks that would normally be healed, efficient and quick, at the end of each session. 

He jolts as he hits the raised claw marks etched over his ribs, shudders at the pressure over the matching arc of bruises, familiar and impossibly big, at his hips. Thumbs at the divots sitting just below where his thighs meet his ass, raw and painful. Something dull but insistent sparks in his gut as he runs the pad of a thumb over the tender welts, catching now on the remnants of his ruined thigh highs.

The best of it, though, is at his jaw, a petal-shaped bruise, blossoming just below his ear and spilling down his neck, across his collarbone, dark and mottled and impossible to ignore with the collar constantly shifting, its weight resettling onto the wound each time he stirs.

He runs one hand through his hair, disheveled from a weekend of sex and his nap, catching in a knot before letting it trail down, presses the heel of his hand to the crook of his neck. It sends a shiver down his spine, the bell jingling again at his touch.

For a time it’s all he can do to lay there, staring at the ceiling and letting his fingers meander. He’s unsure what he’s meant to be doing - it suddenly hits him that he and Brad have spent nearly the entire weekend in this one room. There’s nothing left for him to tidy, though he surely wouldn’t be expected to today. The nearly palpable tension that had driven him yesterday has abated, bleeding into a lazy Sunday afternoon. 

After a morning of breakfast and sex they’d moved to the couch, Taako settling into his now familiar position, legs draped over one arm, head cushioned against Brad’s thigh, each with a book selected from Brad’s shelf - a large, boring looking tome on the music of traditional Dwarven folklore for Brad, and a trashy romance set against the end of the world that Taako pretends he hasn’t been itching to finish for himself. Together they had whiled away the afternoon, quiet broken when Brad reaches for him -  a finger under his chin, guiding Taako’s face into his lap. One enormous hand plants itself on the back of his head, reigning in Taako’s enthusiasm, keeping the pace slow and languid as he sucked Brad off. Prodding at the edge of his lips, wordlessly, before slipping two of his large, blunt fingers into Taako’s mouth to moan around as he reached down, wrapping his other hand around Taako’s dick, moving in long, unhurried strokes. Lifting him suddenly, flipping him over and finally fucking him, before letting him slump forward onto the couch, telling him to close his eyes if he felt like it, to rest.

He suddenly can’t lay still any longer.

He groans as he stands, slipping off the front of the couch, collecting their books, returning them to their respective shelves. Wonders vaguely what to do next. How Brad will want to find him once he’s finished in the shower. Flushes at what the thought of being where Brad wants him, obedient and waiting, does to him.

As he moves toward the bed, he catches a glimpse of his reflection above the bureau. It’s nothing like what he had seen the day before, wild-eyed and desperate. His breath catches in his throat as he looks himself over, stands back far enough to see the long line of his body in the mirror. It’s one thing to feel the marks on his skin, and another entirely to see them; vibrant arcs of red, darkening patches in purple and blue. All framing the collar that still hangs heavy around his neck.

He’s staring at himself, slightly awestruck, a satisfied little smile on his lips, when Brad pads into view behind him, hair down and still damp, the scent of lemongrass and bergamot wafting in behind him.

“Gorgeous,” he mutters, running a thumb over Taako’s spine at the base of his neck, slipping it up and under the collar, making the bell ring.

Taako is struck, again, by how exposed he feels, particularly in contrast to Brad; he’s been spared the full slacks and button down routine this weekend, but Brad is at the very least covered, clad now in a pair of comfortable-looking lounge pants and a t-shirt from what Taako has to guess is his Alma Mater, threadbare and emblazoned with faded orcish text. He has to stop himself from turning around, touching it, seeing if it’s as soft as it looks.

Taako catches Brad's eye in the mirror. He's clearly schooling his expression into one of indifference, but his eyes give him away -- raking over Taako's reflection, his naked body and mussed hair. And Taako sees this slip for what it is: a undeniable victory of his own. He only has a moment to enjoy the satisfaction before Brad’s eyes wander down.

“Have you been touching yourself?” 

The question shouldn’t embarrass him, not after a weekend being fucked raw over every surface in this apartment, but he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks anyway. “Just the scratches,” he mutters. “And the bruises.”

Brad smiles, wide and predatory. Runs a hand up Taako’s side, fingers pressing hard into the marks he’s left. Taako’s breath hitches, his mouth falling open.

“Gorgeous,” Brad repeats, voice low. One hand creeps lower, kneading at the globe of Taako’s ass, just above the stockings Brad has kept him in all weekend. “Though perhaps you could bring something more than stockings next time.”

“I - I did,” Taako groans as Brad traces one finger over the furrows dug into his thighs.

Brad pauses, considering, before pressing in hard with one hand, the other splayed across Taako’s belly, keeping him close and drawing out a low moan.  

“And why, pet, haven’t you told me this until now?”

“You said I wasn’t allowed to wear them,” Taako answers automatically, head spinning, his body wound incredibly tight. He realizes, vaguely, that he hadn’t even considered it an option.

“Stay here.”

Brad crosses the room, plucking the bag from the doorknob it had been draped over on Friday night, and rifles through until he finds what Taako knows is in there: a pair of panties, brand new,  all lace and satin and overly complicated straps. He arches an eyebrow, the delicate fabric threaded between two enormous orcish hands, held up in front of him.

“You’ve been very good today,” he says, moving slowly back to his position behind Taako. “I suppose you’ve earned these.”

Taako can hardly object, especially when the combination of his exploration of the marks on his body, and the teasing, and the way Brad is fucking  _ looking  _ at him has left him half hard already. 

Brad has him brace against one shoulder as he steps into the panties, stops Taako from bending down, looping two thick fingers through the band and pulling them up slowly over his hips, letting the very tips of his claws drag over the nylon of his stockings, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. Brad smirks, pulling them taut and letting the elastic snap again Taako’s already sensitive skin. Then Brad turns, taking Taako by the shoulders, bringing him around, pressing in, crowding him against the edge of the bed. 

“Lovely,” Brad mutters, one hand wrapped around his shoulders, easing him down.

The weekend is starting to catch up with Taako. He feels too heavy, propped up on his elbows, shoulders trembling at his own weight. He moves to spread his legs and finds the muscles in his thighs draw tight, pain shooting up both legs, settling at his hips. He lets his head tip back, groaning, before finally giving up and laying flat against the mattress. He squirms, the insistent pulsing in his cock at odds with his utter exhaustion, how heavy his limbs hang, how spent he feels.

“What is it?” Brad asks, frowning.

“Sore,” he huffs out, eyes screwed shut. “I want to, but -”

“Would you like me to heal you, pet?” Brad asks evenly. He rests both palms on Taako’s ankles, massaging up in slow arcs, hands warm and firm. He doesn’t begin to hum until he receives a single nod of assent from Taako, still splayed out on the mattress. 

The effects are immediate, the magic coursing through him at each point of contact, a buzz humming just under Taako’s skin where they touch. Brad's hands slip slowly up his shins, pausing to run the pads of each thumb over Taako’s knees, wounds smoothing under his touch, but not before the rough drag of fingers over torn skin sends a final jolt straight to Taako’s dick. 

Taako lets out a shuddery breath as the hands work higher, the bed dipping as Brad climbs over him, shifting him toward the headboard. He kneads small circles up Taako’s inner thighs, easing them apart as the muscles relax. There’s a moment, and then he gasps when as feels Brad's tongue dragging over a cluster of small bruises bitten into the sensitive flesh between his legs, there since Friday night and already yellow around the edges. Brad licks up, tongue catching the edge of the panties, before mouthing eager and insistent at the base of Taako’s cock through his underwear.

Taako's hands scramble, grabbing at the comforter as Brad cants his hips up, levering the backs of his thighs off the bed, broad palms catching the punctures he himself put there. He drops Taako unceremoniously, one hand braced against the bed as he leans in to kiss him, hard and insistent. The other runs down his side, over his ribs, knitting skin back together and drawing out a high whine against Brad's lips.

Taako manages to groan out a small ‘No’, wild and a little desperate, as Brad’s hands trace over his hips. Brad chuckles into his mouth, moving lower, leaving the wide arc of bruises that Taako relishes in thumbing at days after their encounters; instead ghosting a hand over his belly, yanking the waistband of Taako’s underwear down, his cock springing out, eagerly hard and already slick at the tip.

Taako thrusts eagerly into his palm as Brad breaks their kiss to whistle the high, sharp note that summons an arcane slick. Taako fumbles with the front of Brad's lounge pants, shoves a hand down and frees his cock, guiding it towards his own, held loosely in Brad's grasp. He gasps, back drawn tight, as Brad presses his dick against Taako's, rutting up to meet the pace of Taako's frantic thrusting. 

Brad returns not to Taako's lips, but to his shoulder, the dual sensations of Brad's tongue running roughly over the ragged wound immediately followed by the strange, tingling relief of the healing sending distinct shocks through his body, heat pooling in his gut at he nears the tipping point. He's vaguely aware of a high, reedy sound, and wonders if it’s him who's making it. He's too unwound now to remember where in the game they left off, what the rules are anymore. 

“Can I -  _ fuck, _ ” he chokes, gasping as Brad does that thing he knows he loves, a twist of his wrist with a heavy drag up, “Can I come? Please?” Feels the hard twitch of Brad's cock against his own when he registers the question. 

“Pet,” he growls, voice starting to go tight, pace increasing, “my kitten.  _ My _ kitten. I want you to come for  _ me _ .” 

Brad returns to the crook of his neck, and Taako prepares for the strange sensation of the healing magic. Instead he finds himself keening, whining and gasping into the crown of Brad's head as the orc comes first, biting down hard just below his jaw, into the bruise already splashed across the thin, sensitive skin at his neck. It's enough to send him over, spilling just a moment later into Brad's hand. 

Taako is still coming down when he feels it, Brad's lips pressed firmly into the bruise, once again channeling his magic. He frowns slightly as he feels the last of the ache ease under Brad’s touch. 

“What is it?” Brad asks, still slightly breathless.

“I - I like having them.”

Brad relaxes, leaning down on the mattress beside him. Runs a claw through Taako’s hair affectionately, as a purr ticks up at the back of Taako’s throat.

“I know you do, pet,” he mutters. “I knew you would.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the entire IWtB crew for helping me beta this <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brad does the crossword. Magnus avoids all obvious questions. Taako sends a text.

They ate dinner at the actual table Sunday night, a first for the weekend. Taako was instructed to set out plates and flatware and napkins to Brad’s absurd standards -- still naked, of course, as he minutely adjusted the angle of a fork; certain that at any moment he’d be dragged back to the bed, or down to the floor, or just bent over the table itself, his chair kicked aside. 

The meal passed as normally as is possible when one of the two people involved is wearing a collar with a bell on it. After, when Taako moved to stack the dishes, a hand closed on his hip, pulling him firmly down into Brad’s lap. And he thought  _ ah, here it is _ , and braced himself for another round. One last fuck for the road.

Brad kissed him softly, a hand along Taako’s cheek. Told him, again, how good he’d been. Unfastened the collar from around his neck, and helped him to his feet, and sent him off to shower on his own. 

Now Taako leans back into the hot water, which feels absolutely amazing as it runs down over his face and his chest, falls in a stream from the just-too-sensitive shaft of his dick. He closes his eyes and listens to the pipes behind him, the sound of drops hitting his skin, the tub. His first real privacy in days. 

His first chance to reflect, too, on what he’s done, and had done to him. What he’s allowed. What he’s asked for.

A chance he doesn’t much want, turns out. 

After a hurried rinse he yanks the shower curtain aside, and finds that his clothes -- the clothes he’d packed on Friday afternoon -- have been left in a neat folded pile beside the sink. When he comes out of the bathroom, damp-haired and barefoot, Brad is sitting on the couch in pajamas and a tattered maroon robe, holding a pen and a folded-over newspaper. 

Brad glances at Taako over the frame of his glasses, then pats the cushion beside him. It’s all sickeningly domestic but Taako’s accepted, by now, that all this pointless cuddling is the ticket to entry for dick stuff down the road. So.   

Taako flops down on the couch, then settles with his legs pulled up against his chest and his shoulder leaned against Brad’s arm. And for the next hour or so he idly braids his hair up into impractical crowns, and picks them back out again, and argues over answers to the crossword. It turns out that Bradson can be drawn into laying out why “bradsmom” isn’t an acceptable solution to “Eight letters, begins with ‘b’, ‘Tyrannical orb.’”

The sun sets outside Brad’s windows. The crossword is completed. Taako’s hair ends up in twin braids down over each of his shoulders, tied off with rubber bands foraged from Brad’s desk.

It’s late enough that he’ll need to leave soon if he’s going to sleep in his own bed, and he wonders if he can just go when he likes; if there’s some further, final trick. He’s stayed over before, sure, but this feels different than those other times. Before, he’s been too tired, or too sore, or too lazy to drag himself home. One-off crashes of convenience, more than anything else. Just being practical.

This weekend has been anything but practical.

Taako’s ears are hot as he scratches the back of his neck. “So...”

“So,” Brad says, his eyes still on some article about mortgages in Goldcliff. 

“Are we...” Taako pulls at the end of one braid. “We’re done, right?”

Brad sets the newspaper aside; pushes his glasses up his nose. “You’ll find your things hanging from the closet door,” he says. “Most of them.”

Taako snorts, the tension easing. “What, you didn’t shove that last handful of nylon in there?”

“It didn’t seem worth the trouble.” 

“Maybe you can gag me with it later,” Taako says, and he sneaks a look at Brad’s face as he levers himself up off the couch

Brad’s expression is closed, his mind obviously elsewhere. He goes to wait by the door to the apartment while Taako collects his shoes, his bag; checks his reflection in the mirror over the bureau, and feels a little thrill at remembering handprints on the glass.

Then they’re both in the narrow entryway. Taako drops his sneakers and wiggles them on, ignoring the laces, the backs flat under his heels. He adjusts how the tote hangs from his shoulder and hooks a thumb under the strap. Not delaying so much as unsure of how to push through the strangeness of just  _ doing _ a thing after days of being guided.

Maybe sensing some part of this, Brad reaches out for the door. But he pauses with his hand on the knob, brows knit. Looks down at Taako and frowns in a way that makes Taako’s ears flatten. “Take it easy this evening,” Brad says, in the tone that normally orders Taako to stay still or be silent or take Brad’s cock into his mouth. “Drink something warm before bed. Rest as much as you need to.”

“Listen, I’m not new to this,” Taako scoffs, although of course he is and he knows it. “I get it, I’ll wrap myself up in my fuzziest blanket and I’ll make a nice big mug of hot cocoa and I’ll ask Merle to read me a bedtime story.”

“You’ve had an intense experience,” Brad continues, determined. “It may affect you in ways you don’t anticipate.”

Taako’s ears dip even further, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You did all...you know, the stuff you do. The whole...” He shrugs. “Couch stuff. Anyway I’m fine, all right? I’m good. It’s not a big deal.”

“Hmm.” Brad’s frown deepens, his hand still on the knob. Then he sighs, and his expression softens. “I’d prefer to be able to see that for myself.”

Taako laughs, and immediately hates how nervy it sounds. “Jesus, another ‘appointment’ already? Don’t you need to like,  _ actually _ work sometimes? You’ve been filling out the same three forms all afternoon, you-”

“Actually,” Brad says, voice clipped. “I was going to suggest breakfast. Or coffee, if you’d prefer."

Taako licks his lips. Rocks back on his heels, suddenly too antsy to really stand still. “What, like...at the cafeteria?”

The corner of Brad’s mouth quirks up. “Strictly conversation.” 

“Yeah, uh...” Another titter of laughter, too high and obviously forced, and Taako winces at it even as he says, “Listen, we...I thought we talked about this.”

“Am I misremembering your schedule?”

“No, I just...” Taako pulls one hand from his pocket to rake it back through his loose fringe of hair, which has become abruptly intolerable in the way it’s falling over his eyes. “The cafeteria?”

“We do have one,” Brad says, dry. Careful.

“Sure, yeah, but listen...” The hand is shoved into his pocket again. “It’s kinda....everyone’s  _ there _ ?”

“Ah.” Brad’s smile hardens. It reminds Taako viscerally of Goodfriend, of being handled and held at arm’s length by a stranger, in a way he does not enjoy at all.  “Well. If you can find time in your morning, humor me with a Stone call. Before nine, if possible, I have meetings scheduled for most of the day.”

“Sure.” Taako kicks the edge of the entryway rug with his toe. “Seriously though, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course,” Brad says, very even. Still smiling like a brick wall as he turns the handle of the door, at last, and holds it open. “Charity will let you know the day and time of your next appointment.”

“Sure,” Taako says again, and swallows, and wonders if this hollow-stomached feeling is the  _ thing _ that happened before, that Brad is warning about, or something else. 

A sigh, and a warm heavy hand on his shoulder. Taako’s eyes are on the door, but some of the edge has smoothed from Brad’s voice as he says, too quiet to be overheard by neighbors, “Good night, pet.”

“Yeah,” Taako says, and escapes into the hall.

The corridors are empty. He has the elevator all to himself, and spends the ride pressing his fingers into a bruise on the point of his hip. A bruise he’d specifically begged to be left.

Magnus is sitting on the couch when Taako slouches in, and he looks up from his carving with an honest grin and asks, “See any good dogs?” He’s learned, by now, not to bother with questions about Taako’s vaguely explained nights away, but dog sightings are safely neutral territory.

Taako steps out of his shoes and vaguely kicks them into the pile beside the door. “Not this time, sport, but mine are  _ barking _ ,” he says as he shuffles into the kitchen. “We still got any of that weird old man tea?”

“Uhhhhhh you mean....chamomile?”

“Yeah. Merle tea.”

“It’s in the tin labeled ‘chamomile,’” Magnus says. “Hey, are you okay? You seem...not?”

“‘M tired,” Taako says, which is true. He fills a mug with water, and dumps a pinch of little dried flowers into a strainer, and zaps the whole thing with Prestidigitation to get it to something that approximates boiling. “Listen, come drag me out of bed if I’m not up by half past eight.”

Magnus turns around on the couch to get a look at him. “What.”

“I don’t wanna sleep in.”

“Now hold on, you’re asking me to come into your room without knocking,” Magnus says, “in the  _ morning _ . To wake you up. You’re asking me, Magnus, to do this.”

“Fuck off,” Taako says, without any heat. “Also yes.”

Magnus squints. “Who are you and where is Taako?”

“Har har,” Taako says as his stomach twists. He waves vaguely with the hand that isn’t holding the mug of tea, and heads straight for his room, and gratefully closes the door behind him.

Normally he’d just crawl into bed naked, but that feels weird after...everything. He digs out an undershirt and ancient pair of boxers to pull on before he props himself up in a throne of pillows with his mug held in both hands. Then he sits and nurses his tea, and stares at a random spot on the wall across from him, and wonders if Magnus already knows. If everyone who might have seen them in the cafeteria -- everyone living on this stupid moon -- knows. 

For just a moment he surrenders to wondering why he cares, why it matters who does or doesn’t figure this out. Then he barks “Because it’s no-one’s fucking business!” out loud and angrily gulps down the rest of his tea.

He semi-slams the mug on the floor, waves off the lights, scrunches down under his covers. Lays there in the dark feeling stupid and childish, and angry about feeling stupid and childish. Too exhausted to really do anything but wound too tight to sleep. Aware that he’s going to have to pee really bad in like a half hour anyway.

His Stone of Farspeech is where he left it two days ago, hung from a little hook by the door. Taako glares at it across the room for a while before he groans, and kicks his feet in useless protest, and drags himself up off the bed again to go and get the damn thing. 

Once again wrapped up in his fortress of quilts, Taako flicks a little keyboard of light out from the bottom of the Stone, and stares at it. Types and deletes, “Nice weekend chef’s kiss.” And, “I feel kinda shit.” And, “What are you doing?” And, “You still awake?” And, “I could make breakfast at your place.” And, “I’m coming over.”

He sighs and rubs at his eyes. Taps the edges of the Stone with his fingers. Types, “Good night, Bradson.” Sends it, and closes the spell, and sets his Stone to “silent,” and hangs it from his headboard. 

Turns away from it, the covers pulled up around his ears. Tells himself it doesn’t matter if there’s an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, AS ALWAYS, thank you to my co-conspirators for being terrible influences, and to our pals and readers on Twitter for encouraging us. Y'all are GREAT.
> 
> [@Wildgoosery](https://twitter.com/wildgoosery)

**Author's Note:**

> Title: **Fall** , by the Presets
> 
> Thank you to the whole IWTB crew for helping beta this!!!


End file.
